Lying          
          In    My   Room,          
  Arms Flopped Over The Edge Of The Bed. 
       Something Poking  My Left Hand, 
                  Something     Slimy, 
     Slithering  Around  The  Fingers, 
          Up   The    Arm.          
 Is   It   Drug-Fueled  Apathy?        
          I   Don'T   Move  The   Arm. 
                                 
 Whatever It Is That'S  Tasting Me,    
 It   Moves   Further    Up,           
 Reaches    The    Armpit.             
 I  Turn  My  Head  Toward   It.       
            Looks    Like    Seagrass. 
       It'S   Kinda  Cute.          
                                 
    Once It'S  Up  My Neck  And  On My 
 Face,    I    Bite    It.             
      The Texture Is Like  That  Of  A 
 Juicy                          Grape, 
     And The Squish Tastes  Like Sweet 
                     Cucumber.     
    It'S Very Good.    And I     
 Suck    More   Of   It   In.          
            Chew    It.             
    The Seagrass Doesn'T Seem To Mind. 
                                 
      Apathy   Gone,  I  Sit  Up.     
      The Tendrils Are Stuck Under    
   My Shirt,     Entering  By The Arm 
 And  Exiting  Through The  Collar.     
     This Makes It Hard For  Me To Push 
 More   Of   It   In   My   Mouth.      
   I Make  To Remove The Shirt, But The 
 Seagrass Finally Protests When  I Try To 
 Move     My    Left     Arm.           
     So  -   Eating  It  Is  Ok,      
      Moving It  Is  Not.